Little Velvet Dress
by ALC Punk
Summary: It was the height of bad manners. Spoilers for season 3. KaraAnders, DuallaLee.


Disclaimer: SO NOT MINE. Though I'd like one of each to play with, pls. I would make them have lots of sex. Rating: HELLO. SEX. 18+ Genre: mostly PWP, with a dash of... er, humor?  
Pairing: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Anastasia Dualla/Lee Adama, mention: Kara Thrace/Lee Adama, Kara Thrace/Zak Adama.  
Notes: This is set during the spoilery missing portion of Lay Down Your Burdens. It can be blamed on rhisilverflame, listening to LYDB at chipmunk!speed, and karmaaster.  
Summary: It was the height of bad manners.  
This contains SPOILERS, people. 

**Little velvet dress**  
by ALC Punk!

It was the height of bad manners.

Kara didn't care, though. She was too busy feeling the alcohol boiling through her blood, and feeling Anders'--well, feeling Anders up. A lot. In the middle of a wedding reception.

"Maybe we should--" Anders' voice cut off in a gasp.

"Shut up."

Which wasn't the point. Actually, Kara had no idea what the point was, or if there would be one later. Currently, the point was that Anders was doing something to the top of her dress that she hoped would be repairable.

But probably wouldn't be. Although she hadn't heard anything rip yet.

It should also be noted, at this point, that Sam Anders was a wise man, and as soon as Kara's proclivities made themselves known, he'd started dancing her towards the head. She hadn't really objected.

Especially since once they were inside, he started messing with the top of her dress and now had fingers skimming her breasts.

"Sam." She broke the kiss and stared at him. "I borrowed this dress."

"It's very... nice." He was distracted, bending his head to nibble at her ear.

"No ripping it."

"Damn." That stopped him.

Kara whined as he pulled his hands away. "Sam."

"If I can't rip it, I'm going to have to use some of that military strategy you keep drilling into my brain."

"You hate strategy."

He kissed her mouth. It was a good distraction, on both sides. And Kara shortly found that his fingers were good at buttons (she'd already learned about his deftness with zippers--her flight suit would never be the same, of course). Kara grabbed the front of his pants.

"Whoa--"

"Your pants aren't borrowed," she informed him before yanking at them.

"Change of tactics," he mumbled, nipping a line down her throat and shoving the dress off her shoulders. Kara wriggled to get it down to the floor, then went back to groping the front of his pants.

Sam wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and stepping back and away from the puddle of dress. Three steps more and Kara felt the wall at her back. Good enough. She used both hands to yank open the front of his pants. "Now."

His answer was to bite a little harder and get a hand hooked under thigh, pulling her up just enough for her hands to pull him free, get her underwear out of the way and get him braced.

And then he stopped.

Kara arched against him with a growl, realizing too late that she had no leverage in this position.

"Damnit, Anders, frak me, or--"

"Or what?"

Kara tightened her grip on his cock. "Or I go find a knife and lop it off?"

"You'd miss it."

"I'm missing it now."

He chuckled, and then moved, hips pressing hers apart more. "Like this?"

"Yes." She used her free hand to smack his shoulder, then let out a startled yelp when he jerked and banged her head into the wall. "Bastard."

He kissed her, holding her still for the ten seconds she let him.

Then she shoved at his shoulder. "Move, damnit."

He thrust, pinning her against the wall and pulling her foot off the floor. The height distance wasn't a problem for about two minutes, and then Kara gave up on it and bit his neck.

"Ow!"

"This isn't--" She arched into a particularly good thrust and he over-balanced.

For a moment, they were teetering towards the floor, the tile looking very cold and uninviting.

Kara yanked at his shoulders, pulling into her, and slamming her head into the wall again. She started giggling as they slid down the wall together.

"You ok?" Sam asked, concern in his voice. He cupped her cheek and craned his neck to look at the back of her head.

"Oh, yeah." Shoving at his chest, she got him on his back and straddled him.

"This floor is cold."

"Noticed." She managed, sinking down onto him.

His hands caught her hips. "Hey."

"What?"

Using a move he had to have been taught by the marines, he rolled them, catching her free hand and pinning it to the floor. Kara arched away from the shockingly cold tile with a loud curse that cut off into a rather loud moan.

"Told you it was cold," he informed her smugly, then he did that thing with his pelvis again.

Kara's reply was inarticulate.

"But, since I'm nice..." He caught her legs, wrapping them around his waist, then pushed up onto his hands and knees.

That worked for zero seconds, Kara's ass slapping onto the tiles while she laughed again.

"You are so drunk."

"Am not."

He kissed her throat. "Are too."

"Am not."

"Prove it."

Remembering they were supposed to be having sex (hence the nakedness and the whole wet between her thighs and aching thing), Kara reached down and grabbed him again.

"You keep doing that, and I'll have to go find a stud to finish you off."

"Maybe what I want is a nice stud?"

"I'm not nice?" he asked, mock-sorrowfully. There was even the suggestion of a pout on his lips.

"Nope. You dropped my ass onto the cold floor."

He kissed her again, "I can be very nice." Dropping back down, he slid into her.

Sliding her fingers into his hair, she ground against him, enjoying the cold floor at her back and the very warm man at her front. The warm man who she was pretty sure she loved. There was this scary mushy shit about possibly dying for him, and wanting to live for him, too. But Kara had sworn Karl to silence on that score.

He slowed his movements, and Kara growled at him. "Sam."

"Too close."

Kara had always believed in being proactive. She shifted, grabbed his free hand and introduced it to her right breast. "Then do something about it."

"So. Hot." He mumbled before teasing her nipple with his fingers.

Not enough. Kara growled again.

"Really hot." He informed her before nipping at her throat. A line of small bites that went straight to her nerves down her throat. Then right over her left breast until he stopped just shy of the nipple.

"Sam." Kara was definitely whining.

In answer, he closed his lips over the nipple and sucked while his hips did that thing, and his fingers pinched her other nipple.

Now it was enough. Kara paid no attention to the sounds she was making as the orgasm swept through her. She did have enough presence of mind to kiss Sam when he followed her a few seconds later. He tended to be, well, loud.

He was, however, noisy enough that she was fairly sure he echoed around the room.

The head wasn't really built for two people to have sex in, she thought fuzzily as the world came back. Even if it was nice and ornate, and really a place for rich people to have their asses wiped. Not that she cared. She had more important things to care about.

Like the man draped across her rapidly cooling body. Running her fingers through his hair, she felt a strange sort of contentment. It was a dangerous feeling. The last time she'd felt something like this, she'd killed the man. But Sam wasn't planning on dying on her. Not now, with New Caprica providing those who wanted it a place to live.

With the cylons unable to track them.

Distracting herself, Kara kissed his lips.

Sam was just beginning to get in on the action when Kara heard something that sounded suspiciously like a door. "Sam."

"Wha?"

"Sam, we did lock the door, didn't we?"

"I thought you did."

Kara tilted her head back, and found the bride staring down at them. She couldn't help herself. She smirked. "Hey, Dee. Wanna have one last fling?"

The petty officer stared at them a moment more before simply turning on her heel and walking out.

"I don't think she was amused."

"She couldn't see your naked ass." Kara noted, "That would have helped."

"Hey, my ass is not laugh-worthy."

"Says you."

He slid his hand down her side and wormed it between them. "I have a nice ass."

"Who says?"

Two fingers slid into her, and Kara almost lost his reply as her back arched. Her head didn't ache anymore from the wall. "Says you."

"Do--not." She fought her breathing, trying not to let it get any faster as he expertly worked his fingers in and out. Her body was tightening again, skin tingling.

"Do to." He whispered, feathering kisses across her cheeks.

Kara grabbed the back of his head and maneuvered him for a deeper kiss, full of tongues and a soft cry when his thumb brushed up and over her clit.

Letting her hips rock to meet the motions of fingers and thumb, Kara got lost in his mouth. Trying to concentrate on his lips, the things his tongue were doing, thoroughly distracted her from the movement between her legs until he brushed her clit again. And again.

Then she couldn't ignore it, as he continued with purpose until she was gasping for breath.

He was still kissing her when everything stopped. The orgasm this time was slower, less full of frustrated energy. She still found herself trying not to be loud.

After all, it would be rude.

Lifting his lips to brush a kiss over her throat, Sam sighed. "Still hot."

"You better believe it, baby."

Anders chuckled and began removing himself from her person.

"Sam." She objected.

"Get up, Kara. We have a wedding reception to attend, remember?"

Remembering their brief interruption, Kara wondered if they'd still be welcome. "I wanna just stay here."

He kissed her nose, then shoved himself to his feet with a wince.

Kara grabbed his ankle. "Don't wanna get up."

"I wore you out? Cool."

"You did not wear me out, I just don't--"

"HAH." He smirked down at her, "If I didn't wear you out, you'd be on your feet ready to go back to the party."

"Maybe parties bore me."

"And maybe I wore you out."

Determined to wipe the smug grin off his face, Kara rolled over and scrambled to her feet, swaying as limp muscles got used to gravity again. "Did not."

"Yuh-huh."

Smacking his ass on the way to the sink was her one answer.

"Oh, oh, oh," he caught her from behind, arms going around her waist and holding her against the sink.

She could see them in the mirror, both smiling and laughing. It gave her an odd feeling, and she grabbed one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. "Stop that."

"What?" Shooting their reflection an innocent look, he dropped his head and kissed her shoulder.

"I thought you wanted to go to the party."

His hand froze in mid-grope and he lifted his head, suddenly serious. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with that. Why?"

"Just thought..." Still serious, he toyed with the hem of the camisole she'd worn under her dress. "Never mind." He kissed her shoulder again and started to pull back.

Kara tightened her grip on his hand and moved backwards into him. "What?"

"You and Adama. I mean, I'm not blind, Kara. There is something..."

There is no us. The words swam through her memory, followed by, I'm hung up on a dead guy. A guy who wasn't so dead. And who she was still hung up on. Kara released his hand and turned to look him in the eye. "Sam..." Gods, she sucked at this shit. "I don't want Lee. I want you. And if I wanted Lee, I wouldn't be here. Ok?"

He touched her cheek. "I just... Sorry. Y'know, I shouldn't have brought this up now, I don't know why--"

Kara shut him up in the most effective way she knew how. With her mouth on his.

The irony of Sam bringing this up here, at the wedding that would place Lee beyond her reach wasn't lost on her. Neither was the part where she hadn't thought about it for months. She had Sam. Lee had Dualla. Lee wasn't Zak. And Sam wasn't any of them. Sam was just Sam.

And she couldn't resist tempting fate. After all, she was Starbuck, and Starbuck always survived. "Sam?"

"Hrm?"

"I love you."

-f-


End file.
